


Cozies

by yeaka



Category: Travelers (TV)
Genre: Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-20 23:13:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21064769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Philip and Trevor watch a movie.





	Cozies

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Travelers or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

After everything that Philip’s seen, all the _real_ pain and suffering in both the past and future, fictional horror movies hardly scare him. They sadden him sometimes, but he doesn’t jump out of the seat the way he would if a living, breathing person lost their head in front of him. But he won’t watch the ones with gratuitous violence. He doesn’t understand the twenty-first pre-occupation with it. _Gore_ shouldn’t be entertainment.

Trevor’s developed a taste for darker movies. Fortunately, he trends towards the older ones and stories more strange than bloody. When he brings over a scratched DVD with half the cover ripped off, Philip lets him in. Trevor explains, “It’s from Gary’s collection. He doesn’t keep things in very good shape.”

Philip can believe that, if Trevor’s description of football is at all accurate. Any time that Philip’s overheard Gary calling, it’s to try and get Trevor to play again, and if he can’t keep his own son’s skull from fracturing, there can’t be any hope for his lifeless possessions. 

Trevor pops it into the machine and makes Philip help him drag the couch over. They dim the lights in the garage, and Trevor fetches some of the blankets off Philip’s bed. He even brought popcorn, which gives Philip pause, until Trevor explains that the butter’s made from coconuts. It doesn’t taste anything like coconuts. It tastes _delicious_, and Philip crunches away as the black and white film starts up.

At first, Philip and Trevor occupy different ends of the couch. They’ve pulled chairs over on either side to hold their drinks and snacks, but Trevor finishes early, and then he’s stretching out. His leg extends across the cushions, sock-covered foot nudging at Philip’s leg. Philip feels its imprint but doesn’t say anything about it. Aliens are descending on the city, except the city’s clearly a miniature model, and it doesn’t capture Philip’s attention. 

Trevor shifting over does. He moves from the armrest to the backrest, withdrawing his leg but shuffling closer to take up more of the blanket strewn over both their laps. Philip doesn’t really _need_ it. Trevor could take the whole thing if he wanted. Philip’s had a long, stressful week of missions and withdrawals, but he feels good now—warm and relaxed. The moving’s boring, but sometime Philip appreciates boring, at least when he’s not facing it alone. Sometimes it’s nice just to have company. Trevor shuffles over again, taking more and more blanket for his own.

Then he’s right at Philip’s side. The temperature in Philip’s body spikes. The eerie music is rising as the hero approaches the UFO crash site. It doesn’t quite cover up Trevor’s sigh. He sounds content, just like Philip is. 

He leans his head down on Philip’s shoulder. The short hairs of his growing-out buzz-cut tickle Philip’s neck. Trevor’s weight is heavy but not unbearable. Gradually, more and more of it slumps onto Philip, until Trevor murmurs, “This okay?”

It’s weird, but not bad. Philip answers, “Yeah.”

Trevor mumbles, “Good.” 

His legs fold, knees leaning against Philip’s thigh. It actually makes Philip laugh. It feels like every time the couch groans, Trevor gets a little closer. Philip asks, “Do you wanna just craw inside my sweater?” It seems like it would save time.

Trevor says, “Yes, actually. I do.”

Philip finally glances over, but he can’t see Trevor’s face properly—he’s stuck at a bad angle. It doesn’t look like Trevor’s blushing, even though Philip’s face is hot. Maybe Trevor can sense that he’s being watched, because he continues, in that deep, calm way of his, “You’re comfortable, Philip. And so is being with you.”

Philip... doesn’t know what to say to that. In some odd, intangible way, he feels the same about Trevor. But he doesn’t know how to say that or if he’s ready to try. He also doesn’t pull away.

He leans his head against Trevor’s and just watches the movie.


End file.
